


Date Night

by mcfuck



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Car Sex, F/F, Humanstuck, Light Dom/sub, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Character, damara had neither, fluffy stuff, i cant belive im still a filthy homestuck in this day and age, porrim has had top/bottom surgery, they both trans btw, they gay and in love ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcfuck/pseuds/mcfuck
Summary: She's dragging you back out to the car before you know it, doing her best to smother you with her mouth on yours as you and she stumbles back out into the parking lot. You're taller than her, but she has you pinned to the car seats the moment the door slams, closes, and locks. Thank god for tinted windows.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> hey i haven't written smut with trans characters before, please let me know if there's anything i should change. enjoy!
> 
> edited 10/14/18
> 
> edited again 11/16/18

For you and Damara, the local gay club (cleverly named “Foreplay”) was an obvious date destination. The nights you spent with her there frequently ended with her already kissing you desperately, attached at the hip as you stumble out into the parking lot.

Damara fits against you like her body was specially crafted to press against yours, her hands on your hips, pulling you close while you swing to the rhythm of the music. You feel her lips against the nape of your neck, and you press your hand over hers on your hip as you sway with her, eyes closed so you can appreciate the pounding beat.

Order within chaos. A frenzy, but not without passion. 

It’s wonderful. It’s what you live for, Damara’s hand sneaking into the armhole of your dress to cup your breast, her other hand feeling the soft squish around your waist as you dance against her. You love the feeling of her against your back, you love the way the music thrums in your bones. You love her most of all.

“Let's get out of here,” she purrs at you, nipping the back of your shoulder gently. Like any sane person, you don’t hesitate to follow her.

She's dragging you back out to the car before you know it, doing her best to smother you with her mouth on yours as the both of you stumble back out into the parking lot. You're taller than her, but she has you pinned to the car seats the moment the door slams, closes, and locks. Thank god for tinted windows.

Her hands roam over you and squeeze your sides and your thighs hungrily, greedily. Her kiss steals the breath from your lungs, devouring you until you're gasping and breathless, shuddering at the way she bites your lower lip and tugs it. Damara's lips trail along your collarbone, following the patterns of tattoos inked there that twist around your shoulder and down the length of your arms, disappearing beneath the low neckline of your dress.

As always, your girlfriend is far from gentle. But you like it that way.

You grab a handful of her rear as she sinks her teeth into your shoulder, leaving dark, stinging bruises on the side of your neck. You adore how possessive she is, how she takes what she wants, how she doesn't hesitate to bite into your collarbone until you're whimpering and gasping her name.

"Roll over," she hisses, breathless, and you obey without a moment of hesitation. Damara hitches the skirt of your dress up over your ass, and you hear her make a sound that's nearly a moan when she sees that you didn't bother with panties tonight. Her slender hands grope at your thighs and ass, lips pressing against the tiger-stripes of stretch marks on your hip as she thumbs your clit.

It doesn't take more than a pinch and a flick of her fingers to make you whimper for her, bracing one hand against the wall of the car and gripping the safety handle on the ceiling with the other. Damara's lips latch onto your thigh and suck hard as she sinks two fingers inside you to the knuckle, pulling them out again torturously slowly before thrusting them back in.

You're so soaked already that her fingers inside you make a wet noise as they slide back in again, but you manage to not cringe at the slick, obscene sound. Damara is a cruel, cruel woman, and you _love_ it. She doesn't give you more than the briefest of moments to adjust before she flexes her wrist and starts to fuck you on her fingers at a brutal pace. If you were less experienced at keeping quiet, you might've screamed.

Two fingers quickly become three, then four, stretching you out far enough to ache in the most delightful way. You take all she gives you and more, rocking back against her hand and gripping the safety handle on the roof of the car for dear life.

She knows every inch of your body, every little thing that makes you twitch and shiver. She knows that it makes you see stars when she bites your hips to leave bruises and trails her tongue over the swirling tattoos on your thighs.

You pray that there’s no one else walking out to their car at the moment, because you’re sure they would hear your cries, your needy moans as Damara fucks you hard enough to make you ache and throb and flutter around her hand, your lips swollen and puffy from the rough stimulation as she curls her four fingers against the little bundle of nerves inside you and makes you scream for her.

Both of her hands move between your legs, the fingers of her right hand still buried knuckle-deep inside you as she uses her left to rub her fingers back and forth over your clit. You can only vaguely register the fact that you’re sobbing her name as you finally, _finally_ cum, soaking her hand in your fluids and tightening around her like a vise.

Her fingers massage that little spot inside you mercilessly and work you through your orgasm, holding you at your peak as long as she can. You ride out the waves of pleasure with her fingers still buried deep inside you; you’re sure she just wants to feel every last clench and tremble, she wants to enjoy feeling how thoroughly she’s destroyed you.

By the time she finally eases her fingers out again to let you recover, you’re a wreck, hardly able to hold yourself up as you struggle to catch your breath again. You can still feel your clit throbbing, wetness running down the inside of your thighs as the last aftershocks of your orgasm fade away. Damara’s hands squeeze at your hips gently as she helps you sit; she strokes your thighs and kisses your forehead, easing you from a state of near-painful ecstasy to post-coital bliss. There’s just enough room on the floor of the car for her to kneel, spreading your thick thighs apart for her to fit her head in between. You focus on breathing and trying not to squirm too much as she licks the fluids off of the insides of your thighs, but you can’t help but moan when she kisses your clit, still unbearably sensitive.

Your thighs clamp on either side of her head and your hands pull at her hair as she gently laps at your clit and your folds until you cum one last time. You’re shaking, trembling and letting out high pitched gasps of pleasure, eventually pushing Damara’s head away when you can’t stand it any longer.

Damara rests her head on your belly once you’re finished, letting you clumsily run your fingers through her long hair. You see her twitch and shiver a little, and you hear her whine softly as she buries her face in the soft fat of your stomach, her shoulder working a little as she presumably rubs a hand between her legs. “Get up here, cutie,” you order, still out of breath, and she whines at you again.

Reluctantly, she obeys, her cheeks flushed a ruddy pink and her breathing shallow. You rest a hand on her hip, rubbing your thumb over the bulge in the front of her skirt and taking a moment to appreciate the way she trembles and bucks into your hand for more.

“Trying to get off without me? Shame on you, you know I like to help. Let me return the favor,” you purr, gently stroking your fingers over the tent in her skirt. Damara can only swallow thickly and nod, her skinny thighs shaking as you press your palm up between her legs for her to grind against. You lean forward and kiss her, drinking in all the little moans and whimpers of pleasure that she lets out her as you rub her through her clothing.

Gently, you move her so she can straddle your thigh instead, letting her rut against you as you push her shirt up under her armpits. She gasps when you give one small, sensitive breast a squeeze, leaning down to press your lips against her chest and rub your thumb over a nipple.

It only takes a little flick of your tongue against her stiff nipple to make her come for you, her moans rising up into cries of pleasure as you rest both hands on her narrow hips and grind her down on your thigh mercilessly. She twitches a little when you cup a hand between her legs, but doesn’t protest when you help her re-tuck more comfortably. She’s always most vulnerable in the afterglow, and you hold her, you let her press her face against your soft chest and you rub her back as she recovers.

You don’t hesitate to interlock your fingers with hers when she reaches out to grab your hand. “Love you,” she whispers, so softly you almost miss it. You murmur the sentiment right back as you lean in to kiss her, tasting yourself on her lips.

She always gets so self-conscious after sex, so you make it a priority to let her know just how perfect she is, peppering her face with kisses and squeezing her boob a little to make her squeak. You tease her until she’s giggling as hard as you are, her slender body wrapped safely in your arms. God, you love these moments. When she finally lets her guard down, and lets you love her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i dont write about lesbians enough. i just. i fuckin love girls ok


End file.
